


I Counted Days, I Counted Miles

by angellwings



Series: (You Are) What You Love [2]
Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, Set during 201
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 13:11:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20639723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angellwings/pseuds/angellwings
Summary: Lucy’s thoughts through the season two premiere about love and loss and getting back to the people you care about. [Lyatt] [One Shot] [Part 2 of an 18 one shot series]





	I Counted Days, I Counted Miles

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Okay, Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince. Phew! Man. This song is pessimistic, sarcastic, but ends on a hopeful note. Upon listening to it and thinking of Timeless it reminded me of Lucy during 201. So, that's what I went with here. Let me tell you, I went deep into Lucy's POV while writing this. At one point, I was struggling to hold back tears. Crying while writing in a public place is probably not a good idea, right?
> 
> So...lots of angst ahead. Some dark thoughts. If you're someone who's sensitive to that then I will totally understand if you want to skip this one. It definitely explores Lucy hitting a very low point. (Though she does start to come back from it at the end, if that helps. Also, try not to think about what happens between Lucy and Wyatt just two episodes later. If you do that, then the ending may not be so hopeful. Sorry. [Insert Chrissy Tiegan wince-smile gif here])
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> Angellwings
> 
> * * *

* * *

"My team is losing,

Battered and bruising.

I see the high fives,

Between the bad guys.

Leave with my head hung.

You are the only one,

Who seems to care.

American stories,

Burning before me.

I'm feeling helpless.

The damsels are depressed.

Boys will be boys, then,

Where are the wise men?

Darling, I'm scared."

-"Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince" by Taylor Swift

* * *

She went from golden child to security risk in the span of five seconds. It's strange to think that the person she's worked her whole life to impress is now the enemy. Not just the enemy, her personal jailer — abuser. No other way to think of it.

Her mother tried to brainwash her. Confined her to a cement walled room with no windows or doors, reminded her that her friends were gone, confronted her with photos and news clippings of a burnt out hangar. Badgered her with failure after failure until she broke.

Once her spirit lay in shattered pieces on the ground, her accommodations improved along with the treatment. But her mother didn't know her very well. She didn't know all that Lucy had been through on her travels through time or the challenges she faced. She didn't know what Lucy knows now. She's stronger than she thinks she is and more resourceful than she ever thought possible. Thanks to a certain blue eyed soldier and a wise cracking engineer. Two people she thought she lost for good.

For their sakes, Lucy refused to let her mother win. It was all a game. She simply had to outplay her opponent. In this case, the mother who never thought her accomplishments were quite good enough.

Third in her class at UCLA? "It's a shame you couldn't crack that top spot, Lucy. Maybe if you had tried a little harder."

Published on her own, without her mother as a co-author? "You had a great premise, but you got carried away toward the middle. If I had been your editor I could have helped you, but I'm sure whoever you're working with tried their best."

Got a job with a well respected professor at a prestigious school? "Chicago, Lucy? Really? What have I done to deserve to be abandoned like this? I could have gotten you a job at Stanford. I wish you would reconsider."

Sure, her mother was different than this Carol, but not by much. When her mother's health started to decline she became more understanding, less demanding. It was as if she saw how unimportant it all was. Her timeline's Carol also had a true love in Henry. Lucy _knows_ what her parents felt for each other was real, even if Henry wasn't really her father. Henry dulled her mother's edges and always had — until he passed when Lucy was in high school. After that, Lucy and Amy were all Carol had. Amy got their mother's love and affection. Lucy became the vessel for Carol's legacy.

All of that to say, this Carol is less merciful. If she thought the mother she grew up with was judgmental and controlling...this new Carol is _worse_.

Through it all, Wyatt kept her going. He wouldn't have let her give in so she wasn't going to let him down. She was desperate, but not devoid of hope. If she could fake her compliance with the Rittenhouse agenda then maybe she could get shit done. Besides, she'd lost everything and now there was nothing holding her back from burning it all down with her still inside. If that was the only way then it wasn't as if anyone would miss her.

So, she built a plan. She built a plan with the intention of not surviving it. The sooner she ended Rittenhouse, the sooner she would find out what happens after death. Would Amy be there? Did people who ceased to exist still move on? Would she see Wyatt and Rufus? Would what she planned to do send her to hell or heaven? Did those places even exist or would everything just..._go dark_? She believed in a higher power controlling fate, but did she believe in anything beyond that? She'd had questions about it for as long as she could remember.

She counted the days until she could find her answers. Maybe Wyatt and Rufus would be waiting for her at the end of her countdown.

Those six weeks with Rittenhouse were the darkest of her life. Fake smiles, muffled sobs, memorizing sterilized doctrines and for the first time in her life cursing her exceptional memory. They wanted her dedication. Her entire being. But she couldn't give it.

As far as she was concerned her dedication died with Rufus and Wyatt.

She was ready to be done with this fight. With her life that would never be normal again. With the dreams she'd dared to hold in her heart about a future where she wasn't alone and cold. Maybe a future with a certain someone who had sandy hair and expressive eyes. Callused hands to match his callused heart. But under all that his touch was soft and his gaze was warm. For the first time it felt like someone, besides her sister, understood her.

Before the explosion, she admonished herself for her feelings. She should have known better. It was never meant to last. It had been ill-fated from the very beginning. Isn't that what she tried to tell herself as she fell deeper and deeper in love with Wyatt Logan? Why didn't she listen? She let him in and now he was gone. He was gone and he would never know that she…

She never let herself finish that thought. It was too tragic, even for her macabre state.

She kept counting the days and played the role she was given. The role of the hurt but well intentioned daughter of Carol Preston. Her mother excused her flippant attitude as dramatics and had no doubts she would eventually come around. She wouldn't but Carol didn't need to know that.

She had it all planned out. They were headed to the past. That's where she would strike. Their numbers were smaller. They underestimated her. It left Rittenhouse vulnerable. She just needed to keep her eyes open for the perfect moment. She wouldn't be deterred. She'd let them kill her before she'd back down.

That was the plan anyway. It probably would have worked too. There was just one problem…

Wyatt and Rufus weren't dead.

The frame of mind she'd forced herself to live in so she could make the hard decisions crumbled in front of her the second her eyes focused on _him_. Wyatt. Alive. In 1918. It was an echo of their reunion after DC.

The world and the elements righted themselves. Just like always.

"You're alive."

"_You're_ alive."

Despite herself those dreams she thought had died sprang to the forefront again. The roots that took hold of her when they first met stopped wilting and resumed growing. She'd been frozen — merely a husk of herself living in a sepia tinted facade. With one embrace, first with Wyatt and then Rufus too, color and life returned.

Her joy lasted only moments. Reality quickly crushed her again.

They were too late. She was already playing Rittenhouse's game. She couldn't stop now. They had to be stopped or else they could just as easily take it all away from her again. Her plan would have to go on. But maybe...maybe she didn't have to burn _with_ Rittenhouse. Not anymore. She avoided Wyatt's gaze as she enlisted their help. He would see her darkness if she did. She didn't want him to see what she'd become. A murdering, lying _victim_. That wasn't the Lucy she wanted him to know.

That Lucy would never forgive herself for stooping to the enemy's level.

For all her best efforts, he saw through her anyway.

"How were you gonna get home?" His voice caught over the words as if he knew her answer but feared it at the same time.

No use lying now. He'd know.

But she directed her answer to Rufus and looked down at the ground before daring to glance at Wyatt again. "I wasn't."

She let the weight of her admission linger between them. She wasn't sure how to move past it so she focused on the task at hand. There wasn't much time to discuss her state of mind anyway. As soon as the directions were out of her mouth, she ran. Partly because her mother was looking for her, but mostly…

Mostly she was running from Wyatt.

Now that he was alive, the depths she'd let her emotions sink to felt shameful. She wasn't certain what to do with them now. She was so sure of her path. She knew what she was doing was the only way. That was no longer the case. Her friends were alive. She'd had other options. She simply hadn't known it.

The internal struggle of her plan with her new circumstances caused her to hesitate when it came to killing Keynes. It led to her getting caught. It led to Emma pointing a gun at Marie Curie and subsequently Lucy when she jumped in front of it.

She no longer wanted to die, but she couldn't let Emma kill any innocents. Lucy had already killed one innocent today. There was no need to kill another.

Thankfully, neither she nor the Curies had to die.

Wyatt and Rufus stepped in. They leveraged Keynes for Lucy. And when that was done Lucy embarrassed herself by trying to sway her mother away from the enemy. Like her feelings for Wyatt, she should have known better.

Her mother was the last of her family. The last piece of Lucy's former life. Her hero and her burden. She always thought under all that bluster her mother loved her unconditionally. That Lucy was more important to her than the superficial.

God damn, was she ever wrong.

Her mother never loved Lucy the same way Lucy loved her. She was her second choice. She was always second. With everyone. With Jonas. With Stanford. And now her own mother.

She went from beloved daughter to threat in the time it took Emma to say, "You can't protect her anymore."

And now she stands in a sad dirty room, wearing borrowed sweats, staring at a cluttered and well used military issue cot. Her mother is gone. Her sister has been taken from her forever. And the world outside this decrepit bunker probably thinks she's dead. Not that she could leave if they didn't. She has no one and nothing, except the locket around her neck.

She doesn't hear him approach but she's not surprised by his deep timbre ringing behind her. She knew he would find her eventually.

"It's not exactly what you were expecting to come home to, huh?"

Home? Is that what this is? They certainly seem to have been living here a while, at least. She's not in the mood for flowery platitudes or pretending she's anything short of devastated so she answers him with the ruthless truth.

"I wasn't _expecting_ to come home at all."

She turns, thinking she'll find shock staring back at her, but she doesn't. He merely gives her a sweeping look of support before asking expectantly, "You okay?"

Easy answer is no. But that's too simple, isn't it? "Okay" is subjective. Being "not okay" could mean she still smells like the stench of a World War battlefield. Being "not okay" could mean she feels mildly inconvenienced by not having any of her own clothes. Being "not okay" is small. What she feels is big.

All encompassing.

The only thing that will truly answer his question is context.

And because she has no defenses against Wyatt Logan — never has — she empties her guilty conscience. She lays her most shameful deed at his feet. She admits her darkness. She'd been kidding herself in that artillery tent. She could never hide from him. Even when she's at her worst. Not without causing herself a great deal more pain. Hiding from him hurts. It would be like having a migraine and refusing to take anything to ease it. He's helped her over the hump in the past. She knows he can do it again. Keeping her pain from him would only make her suffering worse.

"I just keep wondering if I could have stopped them if you hadn't have come."

There. That sums it up in a nutshell. She doubted her plan. If she hadn't done that then this all would be over by now. Wouldn't it?

"Emma would've killed you."

She'd had that thought too and despite her humiliating plea to her mother earlier she tells him the lie she used to comfort herself while in captivity. "My mother wouldn't have let her do that."

"You sure about that?"

As per usual, he doesn't sugar coat it. He doesn't let her live in her delusion. In order to protect herself, she has to see the true danger in her situation. That's what he's always been good for, even in the beginning when they barely got along. He offers clarity. He's arming her to protect herself from those who would hurt her.

The truth she hid from even herself spills out in reply. "No."

And if that's true. Then that means…

"I've lost everything."

The recycled air in the bunker stills and the various machine-like sounds fade away as tears cloud her vision and her shoulders begin to shake. But for the first time in weeks, she's not left alone to cry or forced to bury her face in a pillow and hide it. He's there. He moves from Jiya's cot to hers to pull her into his chest without hesitation. His cheek rests against her forehead causing her hair to pull in his facial hair, but having someone to hold her through her tears feels too good to mind the tugging sensation in her scalp.

She feels an almost imperceptible shake of his head just before his voice, gravelly with emotion, joins the sound of her tears.

"You haven't lost me."

His arms tighten protectively around her, holding her as closely as he can. It's the safest she's felt since she walked away from him at Mason Industries all those weeks ago. Since the night that changed everything. She'd been so optimistic that night. Wyatt implied he wanted to keep seeing her. She would be getting her sister back in a few short hours. Rittenhouse was gone. She had felt like there was nothing the two of them couldn't tackle. No danger they couldn't face.

Her hand travels up to find his jaw as that hope slowly resurfaces. She'd given up because she thought she lost him, but he's not gone. He's here. She has the feel of his prickly stubble against her palm to prove it. They're together. She may have lost the things and the people she used to claim as her own, but he's still here. He hasn't left her or chosen something else over her. He's been steadfast and true.

He'd come looking for her, hadn't he? He'd followed her to 1918. Damn the consequences. He'd traded foiling Rittenhouse plan for _her life_. He chose her. He _found_ her. She'd been lost and he'd brought her home. Not to this dank bunker. Not to an empty uncomfortable cot. No, he'd brought her home _to him_.

Maybe things aren't as desolate as they seem. They'd gotten a leg up on Rittenhouse once before. _Together_. They can do it again. They can fight and _they can win_. She can rebuild and refocus. It won't be easy to make something of the rusted remains of her old life. But it's far from impossible.

She still has Wyatt, after all.

She hasn't lost _everything_.

She feels the pull of his lips to hers and won't allow herself to overthink it. The last six weeks, she's watched every move she made. Being careful every step of the way. Well, to hell with careful. For the moment anyway.

She'll save careful for tomorrow. Right now, she'll imagine running away with Wyatt. Leaving all of this behind. Right now, she'll imagine it's possible for the two of them to be on the same page. _Right now_, the world outside the bunker doesn't exist.

She spent six weeks counting the days and the miles until she could see him again, and now they're finally _here_. It's not as tragic as she imagined it to be and that's enough of a victory.

_For now._


End file.
